


Hey, Mr. Hangman, Go Get Your Rope

by HeadStrongHeadLights



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, somebody really needs to give keith a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadStrongHeadLights/pseuds/HeadStrongHeadLights
Summary: And you can't blame your mother,She's trying not to see you as her worst mistakeKeith reflects on the reality that he is Galra and what this means for his place on the team.





	1. I'll Stand As Still As You Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of edited and based off of like a thousand of my own headcanons. I was surprised by the lack of reaction at the reveal, like nobody really cared (with the exception of Allura, but even then it was muted). This is me trying to fix that along with the eventual acceptance. 
> 
>  
> 
> Unbetaed. **VERY STRONG LANGUAGE**

This was a fucking nightmare. 

Keith desperately wanted this to be a joke, but knew that deep down it wasn’t. Unfortunately, having his suspicions about his origins confirmed did nothing to ease his uncertainty. In the back of his mind, he knew that this wasn’t his fault, but it sure as hell felt like it was. 

He might as well have just signed his own death sentence. 

Every fiber of his _Galra_ being ached and all he wanted to do was go home. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he froze. 

Where the hell even was home anymore? Would his friends even accept him? Keith thought of his dad, but the thought was tossed aside. The man died when he was so young, he could barely remember what he looked like. It was a surprise that he even remembered his voice. Was that even his voice? Can he honestly be certain? Nothing seems right anymore. 

He felt a hand touch him, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. Aside from the pain of the trials (which were complete bullshit. Full Galra with actual swords fighting a child who was only armed with a knife, how monstrous were these people?), he couldn’t bear the thought or weight of any touch. Didn’t matter if the touch was kind, it was all too much. 

Part of him wanted to laugh so bitterly. He was desperate to find somewhere where he belonged, only to realize that he belonged nowhere. A fucking bastard child. Too much of one race and not enough of another to be considered either. 

This had to be a fucking joke. 

Keith had to pull himself together, couldn’t fall apart in front of them. In front of anyone. That’s not who he is. He can’t show weakness. He can’t afford to be weak. But, God, he felt so fucking raw, like everything had been ripped to shreds inside him. He had no idea how he was holding it together. Keith couldn't let these people see him defeated though. He would rather die than let that happen. 

But everything just hurt _so fucking much_. Not just physically either. Why did his heart feel like it was bleeding? He hoped that it was just anxiety and not something was actually happening. Because that would be the icing on this shit cake. 

It took a moment, and then another, of mental preparation before he opened his eyes to see Shiro kneeling in front of him, keeping his hand on his shoulder as something of a grounding touch. Keith couldn’t find the strength to lash out at him. Not with the memory of him calling him selfish still so fresh. Not with the memory of his idol, his hero, turning his back on him and walking away still playing over and over again in his mind. It scared him, not knowing how much truth there was to it. 

Something like uncertainty ( _or was it fear?_ The traitorous voice in Keith’s head whispered. He wanted to tell it to shut up but it more than likely wasn’t wrong) showed in Shiro’s eyes. Like another twist of the knife. He felt sick. He refused to let it show. Had no idea how good of a job he was doing. He tried to not think about it. 

The Blade of Marmora were still talking and Keith did his best to respond, heart not even vaguely into it. Shiro picked up where he fell flat and they made it through okay. Enough so that the resistance agreed to help and would follow them back to the castle ship to discuss the battle plans. Keith just wanted some sleep. 

Like a tick later, and Shiro was more or less dragging him up. Keith had no strength left to fight with, so he let himself be manhandled. The older paladin was talking to him and Keith did his best to respond but it was so lackluster that it was amazing that there was even a conversation there. 

Shiro said that he accepted him, but the fear in his eyes when he looked at Keith said otherwise. The red paladin just wanted him to stop fucking touching him. Each point of contact made his skin crawl. 

Red was waiting for them none too patiently, still ready to rip a bitch apart for hurting him. He won’t lie, a very small part of him was tempted but he was aware enough to realize that course of action would be nothing but counterproductive. 

He tried to push reassuring vibes through the bond but she saw through his bullshit. Luckily, she didn’t push the issue. She purred her own acceptance, easing the tension in his chest just a little. He wanted to curl up in the feeling and wait until he felt steady enough to face his teammates. 

Unfortunately, there was no time to waste and he had to face the music. And the choir was screaming, not singing. 

So, he and Shiro flew back to the castle. Nothing but ice in his veins when he saw his friends waiting for them. This couldn’t end well. Lance sees the sword and points it out almost immediately, and Keith doesn’t know why he’s so shocked. This is probably the least noteworthy thing in this whole mess. To be honest, he doesn't even know what mess he's talking about anymore. 

Anyways, Keith knows the exact moment they all realize what this means. The look of absolute disgust and deject horror on Allura’s and Coran's faces were not even vaguely subtle. Pidge looks torn between anger and skepticism. Lance is borderline unreadable underneath his usual over exaggerated astonishment. Hunk is mostly confused, with some irritation. Like Keith had planned this. And he can still see the fear and uncertainty on Shiro. 

So it was about what he expected. Didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. It just kind of sucked. A lot. 

Keith was still more or less floating on a wave of pain and shock as they discussed plans. There was very little time before they had to make their next move. He really did try to pay attention. But the pain was agonizing. And he felt more than a little floaty. 

Finally, Shiro and Coran took pity on him when the group disbanded. They headed down to the healing pods where Keith finally got a break. 

Just before he completely lost consciousness, all he could think was _‘at least Lance now has a valid reason to hate me.’_


	2. Now I'm Scared I Won't Burn That Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I wish that I could tell you right now, that I love you, but it looks like I won't be around_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed. Strong language. Strong depiction of a mental breakdown, kinda. Vomit mention. Idk what else.

_Wake up._

In his dreams, he can almost remember her touch. He can never quite picture her face, or even her physique, but he can remember in stark clarity how gentle her touch was, even with skin marred by callouses. Even with skin whose texture never matched his dad's. Why was she purple? 

Keith has no idea anymore if these memories are even real, or if he's gone so far off the fucking deep end that now he's just making her up to satisfy his stupid curiosity. But, can he really make up the smell of cactus blossoms, hot sun, and sand that always seemed to follow her? The answer is probably. 

The human mind is capable of crazy shit. Who actually knows. 

_Wake up!_

He's so small, barely coming up to her knee. His father's voice, carrying through waves of uncertainty, promising her a safety that he can't guarantee. Keith doesn't understand. He won't for a very long time. God knows that he wishes he could still plead that ignorance still. 

He wants to tell his younger self that things will be okay, but he can't. He was never very good at lying. 

"They can't find him. They can't know about him," she whispers, desperate and fearful. Her cat-like ears are flat, her eyes wide. 

Keith's small hands cling to her dress tighter, reading the unease wafting off his parents and feels it piling it up on his chest. He buries his face in her dress, the soft cotton not providing its usual comfort. 

Her hand is buried in his hair, the cactus blossom from her lotion reaching his little nose. She tries to calm his nerves, but she doesn't put much effort into it. Her heart's not in it. To be fair, he's not going to buy it regardless. 

"I won't let them get to him," his father promises, seemingly unaware of the weight that he just took on. One that would later cost him his life. Keith wants to warn him, scream at him to take back the words, but can't. Because little Keith doesn't know what the future holds for him. 

_Keith! Please! You have to wake up!_

It's funny. 

He doesn't remember her leaving. He only has that one memory of her, and it's not even one that matters. 

It's the last kiss to his forehead, and then she's gone the next morning. 

And that's it. 

_WAKE UP!_

Keith shoots up, alone in his own bed in the castle, heart pounding in his throat. He blinks, once, twice, before the tears are welling up. He bites his lip as the first slip down his cheeks. 

He doesn't know why he's crying. But his chest feels tight, like he can't get enough air, and he doesn't know why he so fucking upset about a bullshit dream. 

_Because it felt real_ , the traitorous voice in his head whispers. He shuts his eyes and lies back, the heel of his palms pressing into his eyes. Without warning, he can smell the bitter-sweetness of cactus blossoms. 

Keith launches himself out of his bed, racing to the en-suite bathroom to vomit up the limited contents of his stomach. He spends a long time just dry heaving, feeling like he's trying to expel his stomach from his body. Before long, he's sobbing into the toilet, in-between each heave. 

He leans back against the wall, feeling such an intense agony that he can't even begin to explain the pain away. He cries, feeling like a fucking wounded animal. _That's because you are_ , the snide voice whispers. Keith whines at the thought but doesn't dispute it. 

He thinks he hears his door open but has no idea. Whoever it is leaves quickly, and Keith can feel himself spiraling. The crying turns into sobbing and he has no fucking idea why he's so upset. 

_That's because nobody fucking likes you_ , the voice whispers. It's insidious and sick and he has no idea who the fuck it's supposed to represent. _Look at you. You pathetic mess. God, what a disgrace of a paladin. Why would the red lion ever choose you? You're nothing but a pathetic fool. A **Galra** bitch, nonetheless._

God, why does it sound like her? 

His door opens again, panicked footsteps racing towards him. He wants to scream at whomever it is to go away but he can't find his voice. Like the fragile hold on his sanity, it's long gone. 

It's Shiro. Of course, it's Shiro. 

Who the fuck else would it have been? 

He reaches out for Keith, but the younger paladin flinches away from his touch. Shiro pulls back, close enough for his presence to be felt but far enough to not be crowding. It's clear as fucking day that he has no idea what to do, which is fair because Keith doesn't really know what's going on either. 

Hasn't really had an answer for a while anyways. 

Some indiscernible amount of time later, he's finally calming down. Shiro comes just a little bit closer, enough that Keith can lay his head on the older man's shoulder. He's so exhausted and haunted and just all out drained. 

They sit there in silence, the occasional tear every now and then that he causally wipes away. He's so _fucking_ tired. 

Keith forces himself to sit up and almost gags at the taste in his mouth. He's handed a water pouch, which he uses to rinse his mouth and then to rehydrate himself. 

"I don't want to talk about it," he says, before Shiro can even ask. As the man begins to open his mouth again, Keith shakes his head. "Yes, I am sure." 

Shiro seems reluctant to let it go but he does. He gets to his feet first, then helps Keith up. He pulls the smaller paladin into a tight hug, one that tugs at his chest but he resolutely ignores anyways, and let's it linger. 

Eventually Keith pushes him away, thankful for his comfort but too raw for anymore. Shiro seems hesitant but does as requested. 

"Are you going to be okay?" He asks. Keith has no idea how to answer. 

"I will be. Can I please be alone?" He asks. He skin doesn't fit him quite right and he feels close to the edge but having another person there to witness yet another breakdown isn't his idea of a good time. He just needs some space. 

Space which Shiro seems reluctant to give him. 

"I'll be fine. I just want to go back to bed. I promise I won't do anything stupid." He tries for a grin that doesn't fit his face at all, but it's convincing enough for Shiro to leave him alone. 

His door shuts behind him and Keith sits heavily on his bed, feeling so much older than his seventeen years. He really wants to believe that she's his mom. But he has no idea if it's her or not. He has no other memory of her. Hell, he's not even sure that this one is real. But it's comforting enough that he entertains the thought. He lays back, stares at the ceiling, and imagines a kind woman with a gentle touch who smells like sunshine and cactus blossoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilariously enough, this was actually supposed to be about the whole team coming to cope with finding out that their friend is one of the enemies but instead, I chose to write about Keith having a mental breakdown about his mom. Whelp. It happens I guess. Glaring mistakes let me know. But beyond that just fuck with my headcannons/rambly thoughts about his mom. Since we know like nothing about her. I just, needed to get this out of my system I guess. Strong characters break, especially after a trauma. Idk when this takes place. Roll with it. Thanks for reading. 
> 
> PS there might be another chapter. MIGHT. idk when. Don't hold your breath.


	3. So Believe in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And when you think I'm sunk, I will float on and on..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Depression- tread with caution. Language. (I haven't seen s3 or s4. I've seen spoilers. Leave me be if I'm wrong.)  
> Vomit mention, again. 
> 
> Unbetaed. (Glaring mistakes, please let me know.)

It’s not a betrayal. It feels like one, but it isn’t. 

Shiro’s gone, another name on a long list of people who’ve left him behind. It burns, cuts deep in a way he’s far too familiar with. 

The others, they’re trying their best but there’s only so much they can do. They aren’t Shiro. They aren’t who he needs. 

The weight of his mistakes, they weigh heavily on his shoulders. His temper is short, and he can only barely restrain his tongue. Doesn’t matter, he’s already hurt everyone on Team Voltron, intentionally or not. 

He’s so fucking _tired_ of being abandoned. What’s so wrong with him that nobody wants to stick around him? What about him makes it so easy to leave him? 

Keith drops his head to his knees, willing the cramping in his stomach to stop. (It’s hard to eat when everything tastes like ash. Even harder to keep it down when everything is threatening to come back up, even when he hasn’t eaten. Hunk’s trying, doing his best to make foods that taste like his favorites because Hunk knows how badly he’s suffering. Keith appreciates the effort and hates that he seems so goddamn ungrateful.)

He never wanted this. 

He was never meant to be a leader. He’s a solider. He’s always _always_ been better at following orders (to some extent) than giving them. It sounds like a lie, but it’s true. 

He can’t be Shiro. That’s what he’s trying to say. He doesn’t have that natural charisma to him that the older man has. He barely feels like a real person most of the time. 

_That’s because you aren’t,_ his brain unhelpfully supplies. He slams the brakes on that train of thought almost immediately, not needing that addition guilt on top of everything else. It’s already hard enough, feeling like an outsider without the actual outsider-ness holding him under. 

Deep down, buried somewhere underneath the guilt and anxiety and self-hate, Keith feels like he should be doing something. Anything. Trying to find Shiro. Trying to become a better leader. Literally anything else besides hiding in his room, on the verge of another mental breakdown. 

It’s hard to feel stable when your anchor is lost to the sea and you’re caught in the storm. 

A knock at his door startles him out of his self-loathing, and he quickly wipes away the moisture gathering in his eyes. His stomach twists again, making bile rise in his throat. He swallows it down, and tries to not cringe as it burns his throat. 

Hunk opens the door, not waiting for Keith’s permission. He’s holding a plate of food, a smaller portion than what Lance normally tries to force on him. 

A wave of gratitude crashes on him so hard it steals his breath for a moment. 

The other teen shuts the door behind him and turns on the overhead light, making Keith blink. Hunk approaches him, not exactly cautious but sure as hell not with the same ease that he does everyone else. Like he’s a wild animal. No, not wild. Wounded. 

Something akin to resentment curls up in his chest, taking place where his heart usually resides. Who it’s directed at is a bit of a toss-up. Hunk for treating him like a wild animal, or at himself for doing everything in his power to warrant it. 

Hunk sets the plate down on the bedside table before sitting next to him, leaving about a foot between them. 

Another cramp hits, and Keith can’t quite suppress the wince. The look of concern on Hunk’s face softens, the smile on his face taking on a more sympathetic tone. 

Keith feels his temper flare up at that but stifles the spark before it can become a flame. It’s in Hunk’s nature to take care of people who are hurting. It’s what he does. Keith has no right to get mad at him. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Hunk tells him. There’s nothing accusatory in his tone, just a hint of worry. 

He can’t quite meet the other teen’s eyes. “Sorry, I just wasn’t hungry.” It’s a fucking lie and both of them know it. His stomach currently feels like it’s trying to eat itself but he just can’t keep anything down. 

Hunk very politely does not call him out on the blatant lie. 

“That’s okay. I saved you some. I got it to taste like mashed potatoes and meatloaf. It’s actually quite tasty, don’t let the appearance fool you.” Hunk flashes him a grin. 

Keith glances at the blue mush on the plate and chooses to believe Hunk. He’s the best they’ve got at figuring out the alien food. 

That being said, he still wasn’t hungry enough… Desperate enough to try and keep anything down. All of his internal organs feel like a black hole and he’s so tired of feeling like he’s about to disappear into the void. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay dude, it’s going to be okay,” Hunk says, pulling Keith into a hug. Which, okay. Uh. Wow. He’s crying. When did he start doing that?

The tears go from silent to damn near hysterical as he clutches Hunk’s shoulders, taking comfort from the other teen. He’s crying so hard that he almost misses the door opening. Almost. But he can barely breathe so he doesn’t have the strength to yell at whomever entered to leave. 

“Oh, Keith,” Lance sighs, and Keith almost throws up from the amount of sympathy in his voice. Or maybe it’s because the stomach cramps are getting worse. Honestly, it’s a bit of a toss-up. 

He tightens the grip he has on Hunk’s shirt instead of punching Lance like he wants to. Honestly, he’s getting really really _really_ tired of being such an emotional wreck all the goddamn time.

Lance takes a seat on the other side of Keith, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder blade, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. It’s always hit Keith as weird that he was so sweet when he knows that he’s seen the Cuban teen shoot someone in the eye from 200 meters away. 

It pings in the back of his mind that Lance has younger siblings but Keith has no idea how to ask how many times he’s had to comfort them after a bad nightmare or a rough day. Fuck, he doesn’t even know how many the other teen has. Like Lance likes to joke, Keith doesn’t have the people skills required to ask what he wants to. Doesn’t have the people skills that Shiro has. 

And that thoughts starts a whole new wave of fresh tears. He doesn’t understand what about him makes it so easy for others to abandon him, intentionally or not. But he doesn’t know how to ask without sounding pathetic and to be honest, he’s already filling his quota of that emotion for the day. Week. Year. Lifetime. 

“It’s going to be okay Keith, we’re going to find Shiro and bring him back,” Pidge says from her spot on his chair. 

He chokes on the bile. He’s being so selfish. God, what’s wrong with him? Her brother and father are still missing and here he is, whining about being the leader. 

Keith pushes away from them, rushing to the bathroom. He drops to his knees and chokes up the bile, because there’s literally nothing left in his stomach. 

He’s sobbing again and can’t calm down, feeling worn down and battered by the wave of emotion that keeps crashing over his head. 

The hand is back on his shoulder, pulling him back. Arms wrap around him and he’s so tired of fighting everything that he curls up into the touch, gripping the forearms across his chest. 

“You haven’t been sleeping well either, right?” Lance asks, keeping his voice gentle. Keith no longer sees a point in lying, the sleep deprivation catching up to him as he shakes his head. 

Lance just sighs again and holds him a little tighter. After a moment, he speaks up again. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to brush your teeth, and drink a glass of water. You’re probably really dehydrated and it’s not going to help your head in the morning. Then you are going to eat a couple of bites at least. Hunk and Pidge are getting blankets and pillows from their rooms and we’re all going to sleep in here tonight, alright?” 

Keith just nods because Lance wasn’t really asking and he was just too tired to fight. He follows Lance’s instructions, despite nodding off as he brushes his teeth. It’s hard to restrain himself when he’s drinking the water, unaware of how dehydrated he was. Lance has to slow him down multiple times, lest he make himself sick again. 

Another glass and Lance leads him back into the main room, making Keith sit before handing him the plate. Hunk was right, it did taste like mashed potatoes and it almost had the same texture, if mashed potatoes were more gelatinous instead of creamy but still. 

He only managed a couple of bites, but it satisfied Lance enough. Hunk and Pidge came back shortly after, arms full. In a matter of minutes, they had a perfect little nest on the floor and they’re all curled around each other. 

It only then occurs to Keith that they’re hurting too, maybe not as much as he is but hurting none the less. Despite the sudden and crushing sense of worthlessnesss, he realizes that he really loves this team, this makeshift family. The gratitude overcomes the despair and he couldn’t love them more for it. 

Hunk and Lance drop off almost immediately. Keith is on the verge when Pidge grabs his hand and squeezes, her voice pitched low as to not wake the others. Her eyes are bright with determination. 

“Don’t worry, we’re going to find him. If we have to tear apart the universe to, we will.” And he knows that she means it. And for a moment, he believes it too. 

He squeezes her hand back, his own voice low and rough. “Thank you.” 

He drops off himself not long after that, sleeping through the night without nightmares to hold him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. I'm done and not continuing this. I might write a part two to this... Someday... When I actually finish watching Voltron... But thank you so much for reading and for all the love. 
> 
> (Finally got the team together. This is probs totally OOC but idc. My son needs a hug and they all need a hug. A lot of hugs required.)
> 
> You have a question? Visit my tumblr: [here](https://headstrongheadlights.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've probs butchered the characters, but if you have any advice, I would love to hear it. This is my first time writing the characters and I'm just trying to get a feel for them. Like I said, this episode stuck with me, and wouldn't let me go. So. Yeah. Next part should be out soon.


End file.
